My brother is a man of God.
He is a strong man, a good man. I draw my own strength from him, for he leadeth me beside still waters. And he is my salvation.
People look up to Justin, they admire him greatly. Even if some do not value him as much as they should. But he has a higher calling than they. And they will be sorry that they did not respect him more when he rises above them. He is destined for greater things than they are. They are jealous fools.
He relies upon me, Justin does. I am important to him. I know that I am. Necessary, even. Whether he always remembers to tell me so or not. But I am aware of how he feels. How can I not be? How can I not?
They people in his church, they appreciate him. They see what a great man he is. And they realize how filled with the spirit is Justin, filled with the glory. Filled with a radiance beyond measure. And I saw it first. I was there for him first, always will be.
We've always been together, he and I. Always been together, relied on one another, stood firm together. In all ways. Some might call what we have a blasphemy, but he shushes my concerns and tells me that they do not understand about us, they are not enlightened. And I am content once more.
At night we sit together, after the evening meal, once I have made sure that everything is in order, and immaculate - we sit in our parlor, as he works on that week's sermon. And i watch him as he works. Watch the way that the light from the fire plays about his strong face, his glorious face. And I bask in the knowledge that he belongs to me more than to anyone else. Except for Him, of course. That is a given.
He looks up from the Bible which he studies, and I see the small smile which plays about his lips, as he catches me watching him. Sometimes it annoys him if I gaze at him too much, but at other times, at times such as these, he not only tolerates it, he encourages it, and these are the times that cause my soul to sing hosannas to the host on high. These are the times when I feel like the woman I was always meant to be - his woman. Justin's woman.
"Iris, do you love me?" he asks simply, removing his spectacles, laying them upon the Bible, as he contemplates me in that heavylidded way that I adore.
"I do," I reply quietly.
"What would you do for me?" he asks, in our familiar litany.
I set aside the needlework which I have been ignoring anyway, fold my hands demurely in my lap. "Anything," I respond with a quiet fervor. "Everything."
"Show me, Iris," he challenges me, and my breath quickens at his tone, as he turns his chair toward me, his body so commanding, so very regal. I would do anything for him, and he knows it. Oh yes, he knows it. I am his puppet, and with his words, his looks, he guides me toward the path which he would wish for me.
"For you everything, my lord," I murmur in unabashed adoration, as I straighten my body, gathering the strength from within which I need in order to serve him to the best of my humble ability. "If you willed it, I would lay down my life for you. And if you willed it, I would fall unbidden to my knees in prayer." And I do just that. One moment, I am seated across from him, the next, I am on my knees before him, and he is smiling at me, as I reach for him.
"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be they name," My humble hand has unzipped his black trousers, reaching inside for what I seek, what I know will be there. His hard manhood. I feel him react as I touch him, shuddering gloriously. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven...."
I release his flesh, and I take it in my eager fingers, grasping it familiarly. "Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." I touch my lips to him, savor the feel of him, even as he moans aloud, my signal that all is indeed well. "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil...." I take him into my mouth, and sheathe him there, as I begin my ministrations upon him. I can feel his desire, it pulsates inside my mouth, as he continues the prayer, which I am now hindered from doing.
"For thine is the kingdom," he intones in his pulpit-voice, the one that sends shivers up and down my spine, "and the power, and the glory...." Faster I work, faster, caught up in the frenzy of his motions as he pumps himself hard within my mouth and I seek to bring him relief from his stress-laden life. "Forever and ever...........AMEN!"
He reaches the last word of the prayer just as he reaches his release, and I feel the triumph, both orally and aurally, and I accept his offering, eagerly, as his most humble servant. And when he is done, he pats me on the head gently, returns to his sermon, his private communion with God, and I am content that it be so.